


My knees are far too weak to stand in your arms without falling to your feet

by bettiqua



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, M/M, Praise Kink, and they're iN LOVE !!!, vaguely set sometime post-moxxi's heist dlc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24875821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettiqua/pseuds/bettiqua
Summary: "I don't know what I'd do without you. Probably work myself to death. But you're always there to keep my head above water, aren't you? I can always trust you to be by my side.""Of course," Timothy says, then immediately bites his lips shut. He wasn't told to stay quiet or anything, but the praise is going to his head and heart and everything and he doesn't want it to stop.
Relationships: Timothy Lawrence/Rhys
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	My knees are far too weak to stand in your arms without falling to your feet

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if the characterization is a little weird, i wrote this all in the span of about 2 hours and i wrote it while i was feelin some type of way.
> 
> title from ["set fire to the rain" by adele](https://open.spotify.com/track/3CKCZ9pfwAfoMZlMncA1Nc?si=YUfmT-LUQIqvFr8qttBauQ), hoohoohoo

"Timothy…"

Timothy shudders where he's curled up in the oversized and fluffy armchair. The tone Rhys uses is honeyed, but Timothy has come to recognize it as meaning Rhys is either about to ask him to run an errand he won't like, or he's about to be ordered around in a…less than professional manner. Considering the circumstances (Rhys has just come home from an Atlas executive party, tipsy and disheveled and still upset Timothy hadn't come with him, even though he knows the reason why), Timothy is pretty sure it's the latter.

"Timothy-y-y-y…" Rhys' voice is closer, and his too pretty face pops around the corner from the kitchen. He's smiling, much like the cat that caught the canary, and Timothy very much feels like the metaphorical canary. Though Rhys has had Timothy at his beck and call for a long time now, and some would call him Rhys' bitch more than anything (no, really, he's overheard some jealous soldiers say it a couple times when they thought he wasn't around). That thought makes his face burn and his toes curl under his slippers.

"Why are you ignoring me? Are you too sleepy to pay attention to your wonderful boyfriend?"

Rhys enjoys referring to Timothy as his boyfriend. Timothy still hasn't gotten the hang of doing the same (he still can't believe Rhys can bear to spend time with him—what with the face and all—let alone want to be his boyfriend), and he figures that's why Rhys does it so often. Rhys has, over time, gotten pretty good at reading people. Timothy appreciates it, usually, but sometimes the being known scares him so bad he wants to run away.

But he knows he couldn't resist staying away for long. He loves Rhys too much, and he's much too greedy for Rhys to manage something like that.

"S-sorry," he mutters, curling up tighter and staring at his hands. "Wasn't ignoring you, sweetheart, I was just thinking."

Rhys' laugh is dulcet and promises only good things. Timothy can't stop himself from looking up again. "I was thinking, too." Rhys starts sauntering over, in control of his every inch, like a prowling tiger, "About how there's nothing more I want than to take you to be—"

He's interrupted when he fails to account for the fur rug centered in the living room, too focused on Timothy. Luckily, Timothy is quick to move, bolting from the armchair to catch him. He ends up banging his knees on the floor, but he keeps Rhys from completely losing his footing. His hands are tight on Timothy's shoulders, but he's more or less stable. Timothy keeps his hands on the CEO’s elbows regardless, delighting in the touch.

"You okay?" he asks, grinning up at Rhys and impossibly fond.

Rhys' cheeks are pink and his eyes narrowed, but Timothy figures it's more from trying to get back his bearings. Eventually he nods and stands up straight. Timothy doesn't bother moving from his kneeling position before Rhys; there’s something about Rhys’ expression just now that keeps him there.

"You're too good to me, Tim. Good boy…" Rhys murmurs, just loud enough for Timothy to hear. But with the way he reacts, one would guess Rhys had shouted it out loud; Timothy's face spasms with emotion, his cheeks turning dark beneath the scar and eyes locking onto Rhys' socked feet.

Rhys laughs quietly, and Timothy feels cool metal fingers begin threading through his hair. "So sweet and loyal, even when I make an ass of myself…" The words are genuine, though the quality of his voice has dropped to something timothy's only heard in the bedroom. Arousal begins flushing through him, and he shifts a little. He stays still enough, however, so as to not jostle Rhys' hand out of his hair. "I don't know what I'd do without you. Probably work myself to death. But you're always there to keep my head above water, aren't you? I can always trust you to be by my side."

"Of course," Timothy says, then immediately bites his lips shut. He wasn't told to stay quiet or anything, but the praise is going to his head and heart and everything and he doesn't want it to stop.

Rhys chuckles, "Thank you. I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend. My perfect little Tim…" His fingers move down to stroke along the shell of one of Timothy's ears and he shivers. He squirms in place as Rhys touches all the sensitive spots around his ear and jaw. Timothy nuzzles a little into the metal palm and dammit, this isn't foreplay and they haven't even kissed, but he's already half-hard in his jeans and he's really tempted to just touch himself to the sound of Rhys' sweet nothings.

"I've always been a firm believer that no good deed deserves to go unrewarded," Rhys is almost whispering now, "So how about it? Do you want a reward?"

_Anything_. Timothy nods. He would want anything Rhys would give him.

"Spread your legs."

" _Nnguh_ ," the embarrassing noise escapes Timothy at those words before he can even think. He quickly adjusts, spreading his legs as wide as he can while he sits on his ankles. Rhys' leg comes in between them, rubbing along Timothy's inner thigh slowly, so slowly, until he bumps up against Timothy's erection. Timothy gasps, jerks, but keeps himself from moving too much lest Rhys decides to withhold his reward.

But then Rhys tuts at him, sliding his other hand into Timothy's hair, knocking it out of the tiny ponytail he had it in, while his metal one goes back to stroking his jaw. "It's all right, Tim, you can move. In fact, I want you to. Rut against my leg 'til you cum, okay?"

Timothy nearly chokes on his own gasp, and his hands come up to grasp at the leg of Rhys' slacks. _God_ , he thinks to himself, not hesitating for a moment to do exactly as Rhys asked, he really is Rhys' bitch, huh? Humping his leg like a dog in heat, panting against his hand in between the kisses he begins smothering it with. He rocks against Rhys' leg hard and fast, maybe a little too rough considering rhys is skin and bones. but he doesn't stop, can't stop when he glances up at Rhys and sees he's mesmerized by the picture Timothy makes.

He wants it to be good for Rhys. Wants to _be_ good for Rhys.

"I… I…"

"What is it?" Rhys smiles lazily at him.

"I want to… Rhys…" Timothy gives up on talking and just starts reaching up for Rhys' fly, suddenly more eager than anything to get the cock Timothy can see the shape of beneath Rhys' slacks in his mouth.

But before he can, Rhys catches his wrists. Timothy slows the rhythm of his hips, but doesn't stop the minute grinding. He makes an upset, confused noise at being stopped, frowns up at Rhys, looking for an answer.

"This is your reward, Tim. Just focus on you." He places his warm fingers over Timothy's lips when it looks like he'll argue, "Besides, I wanna watch you get all worked up over fucking against my leg and I _really_ wanna see your face when you cum."

Timothy shudders hard at Rhys' filthy words, and bites down a groan. He resumes his rough pace, and takes a couple of Rhys' fingers into his mouth, suckling on them to muffle his moans.

He's at it for a hazy few minutes when he realizes he's getting close. It doesn't help that Rhys has started talking again, about how cute Timothy is, how good he is, how he loves him, how he really wishes Timothy was fucking him right now. Timothy almost stops right there, almost tries to fulfill Rhys' wish, but Rhys' metal hand clamps down on his shoulder and keeps him on his knees. He settles back down with a disappointed noise and goes back to rutting against Rhys' leg while the CEO laughs above him.

"Maybe later, Timothy, but you know what I really want right now."

"Y-you—ahh…" Timothy manages to go faster, so close to the edge that it almost hurts. He's sure he wouldn't be able to get all the way inside Rhys before coming anyway. "You want…" Dammit, why is talking so hard all of a sudden, why does he feel so much like he's burning alive, "I'm, I'm doin' it, I am… It's for you, for— _nnh_!"

"Oh, you are, you're doing so well," Rhys coos, "Are you going to cum for me, Tim?"

As if he had a choice.

When he comes, Timothy lets out a noise that's half-moan and half-cry, jerking wildly against Rhys' leg while he grips the fabric of Rhys' slacks hard. He buries his face into Rhys' ilium, muffling any further whines and whimpers while Rhys pets his messy hair.

Eventually Timothy comes to, and when he does, Rhys grins down sunnily at him. "I love you," he says, like he didn't just blow Timothy's mind without hardly having to raise a finger.

Timothy doesn't respond, though his heart leaps like it always does when Rhys says those three words. Instead, he reaches again for Rhys' pants, yanking them open as quick as he can without ripping anything. Rhys' dick is in his mouth before Rhys can even say his name, and Timothy is blessed with a breathy moan.

"Timothy, god, your mouth is so…" Rhys trails off, but the way his hips jolt, then tremble as he tries to hold still tells Timothy all he needs to know.

He's given Rhys enough blowjobs to know how to get him off fast (a useful skill for mid-work quickies), and he pulls out all the stops. He even reaches a hand around and down the back of Rhys’ pants and boxers to rub a finger against his hole. He doesn't enter, of course, but just the gentle touch makes Rhys let out a high-pitched whine.

When Rhys' breaths start quickening, each punctuated with a small grunt, Timothy pulls off and replaces his mouth with a hand. He strokes quickly and efficiently, the pre-cum and saliva easing the way significantly. He positions himself just right, mutters Rhys' name to get his attention, and lets his mouth drop open just in time for the first spurts of Rhys' cum to splatter across his lips and tongue, followed by his cheeks and the sharp bridge of his nose.

Timothy doesn't entirely understand the appeal of facials, but he knows Rhys likes them, and that's good enough for him.

Rhys falls to his knees as well when his orgasm fades, and he throws his arms around Timothy's shoulders to yank him into a kiss. It's awfully messy, even without the semen on Timothy's face, and it threatens to get Timothy all hot and bothered again, but then Rhys pulls away. He starts giggling and Timothy giggles right along with him.

"We should probably clean up, huh?" Rhys murmurs. He licks his lips, cleaning off a drop of his own cum. Timothy swallows to wet his dry throat.

"Yeah. Definitely. Shower?"

Rhys gives him a peck on his still dirty lips and still dirty cheek, then nods with a laugh. "Shower."

**Author's Note:**

> hey listen. i love these two. i love them so much i've been writing a real long chaptered fic for them. i wanna get most of it outlined/written before i start postin it, but 👀 keep an eye out if u luv these boys too


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